


The Way That I Feel

by KCUrquhart



Series: Holding It All and Trying To Pretend [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCUrquhart/pseuds/KCUrquhart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But are you sure?" Fury's tone softened slightly. "What about Coulson?"</p><p>"I understand your concern." Clint whispered. "But I know what I'm doing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They drove to work together, the way they did every day, kissing good-bye in the car as a last ditch attempt to maintain some secrecy. There were rumors, of course, but only a handful of people actually knew for certain that Phil and Clint were together. Phil went straight to his office, stopping only long enough to get himself a cup of coffee. Clint headed for the range, making sure to be seen by a few people on the way.

As soon as he was certain he was alone, Clint slipped into a camera blind spot. He pushed up a ceiling tile and pulled himself up. From there he found his way into the air ducts and up the 20 floors to Fury's office. He waited until the man was off of his phone (which took far too long for Clint's liking. He wasn't sure how long he'd have before someone noticed he was no longer in the range) then dropped down.

Fury didn't flinch or look up from the paperwork littering his desk. Just said, in a smooth, cold voice. "Is there an alien invasion in the building that I am unaware of? Because if not, then I had better be imagining you dropping out of my ceiling."

Clint tried to smile but it faltered as the wise-crack come-back died in his throat. Fury's brow pinched slightly and he glared up at Clint. Junior agents mistook the look for annoyance but Clint had learned that it was actually how Fury expressed concern. He figured the misunderstanding had to do with the eye patch. It was hard to look soft when half your face was hidden.

"What's wrong Barton? Is Coulson- "

"He's fine, sir." Fury's brow pinched even tighter at Clint's formality. He used his pen to indicate for Clint to sit in the chair facing his desk. Clint obeyed wordlessly.

Fury stared Barton down, waiting for him to speak. But Clint's throat was too tight. He still wasn't sure if he could go through with this. If he was doing the right thing. He knew the pattern though. Knew that the clock was ticking. Only this time he wouldn't be able to survive when time ran out. He needed to do this. He needed to take pre-emptive measures.

"Barton, I'm calling Coulson right now if you don't – "

"I want the Widow-Maker Mission."

Fury's eye widened slightly. The only betrayal of his shock. "That mission is classified as above Top Secret. As in way above your pay grade."

Clint just shrugged. "I'm a spy."

"A damn good one. Which is why I was planning on giving you and Coulson the mission during the briefing this afternoon." Fury's tone was dismissive. Indicating to Clint that the conversation was over. But Clint had one more surprise for Fury.

"I want it to be a Kill Shot."

This time Clint's words caused Fury's jaw to drop. He recovered a half-second later, trying to cover it up with a yawn. "The Kill Shot Program is just a myth, Barton. Stop listening to rumors."

"With all due respect, sir, that's complete bullshit. The Kill Shot Program was established in 1973 under the false designation Alpha Charlie 17-3 within the West Berlin Auxiliary Maintenance Tax files, translated into Yoruban then run through a block cipher."

"Well, you going to tell me where you got your information from, or am I going to have to shoot the agent in charge of the Berlin HQ archives?"

"That'd be a shame since the files are stored in Prague."

Fury nodded. "All right." He stood up and walked around the desk, flaring out his trench coat behind him. He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "You understand the full implications?"

"Sir, I took enough time to track down the documentation. And you know how I feel about paperwork."

"But are you sure?" Fury's tone softened slightly. "What about Coulson?"

"I understand your concern." Clint whispered. "But I know what I'm doing."

;;;

Phil smiled into his pillow. The blanket trapped in his body heat, nestling him into a cocoon of warmth. It felt like heaven in the winter morning air. He shifted his arm, ignoring the cool air it let in, and reached over for Clint. But his hand landed on cold sheets. His heart clenched and he bolted upright. Clint's side of the bed was empty. The bed made up as if no one had slept there. But he knew someone had. Clint had been here. Had fallen asleep in his arms.

Maybe Clint had just gotten up early. That happened sometimes. If he had a nightmare that he couldn't recover from.

Phil got up and searched the apartment. The bathroom. The kitchen. Living room. They were all empty. Clint was gone.

Well maybe the nightmare had been bad enough that Clint had needed to shoot. He was probably just at the range. Phil thought about calling him, to be sure, but decided against it. If Clint was trying to fight off some memory, then he needed his space to do it. Phil would just check the video feeds once he got to the office. Keep an eye on Clint that way. Make sure the man didn't work himself into exhaustion again.

Only when Phil got to HQ, Clint was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't in the range. He wasn't in his barrack. Phil ran a recognition sequence for the entire building. Wherever Barton was, it wasn't there. Panic finally started to creep up on Phil. He pulled out his phone and dialed Phil's number. Secret Agent Man started blasting from one of Phil's desk drawers. He yanked it open to see Clint's phone sitting atop a stack of papers. He slammed his phone shut. It was time to see Fury.

;;;

"Barton is on an assignment." Fury said cooly.

"I'm his handler. I would know if he had been given a mission." Phil was trying his hardest not to launch himself at Fury. "Not to mention the fact that even if his mission hadn't been cleared by me, which is impossible, he still would have told me about it."

"This is a Level 8 mission, Coulson. The assignment came from the Security Council directly."

"They asked for Clint?" Phil was shocked. Clint was the biggest pain in the Council's ass.

"Yes. They asked for Barton by name." Fury emphasized the name, pointing out Phil's mistake. No getting familiar at work. While at SHIELD, they were Coulson and Barton. No matter what they became once they were off the clock. "Now, you have work to do. I will keep you appraised of Barton's condition."

"Thank you, Sir." Phil headed back to his office. He was still pissed at Barton and Fury for keeping this from him. But he understood procedures and orders. He was just surprised Clint had actually obeyed them. He would have to ask him about it whenever he got back. Which hopefully wouldn't be that long. Phil hated to admit it, but he had gotten so used to having Barton around all the time that whenever he was gone it felt like a piece of himself was missing.

;;;

"Agent Barton was killed in action."

Phil's heart bottomed out. He gripped the arms of his chair as hard as he could. Fighting to keep himself in control. The hard plastic digging into his skin. He'd always known this was a possibility. He'd prepared for it. But he still wasn't ready for it. Had hoped that somehow it would never happen.

"He was on a mission in the Southern Quarter." Fury continued, speaking to the other two agents in the room. Hill and Sitwell. The other two people for whom this information was need-to-know. "We have been unable to recover any remains as of yet."

"So how can we be certain?" Sitwell asked.

"There can be no other conclusion given the mission's objective, target, and location. Barton has been out of contact for two weeks. He is officially listed as KIA. The general announcement will go out tomorrow and the funeral will be this Friday."

The meeting was dismissed but no one left. They were all hesitating; standing around awkwardly. Waiting to see what Phil would do. He didn't think he could do anything. His body felt paralyzed. His mind was numb. The words just echoing around. Analyzing everything Fury had said. Then it clicked. Fury. It was what Fury had said. They didn't have any proof. No body. No remains. So they didn't know for sure. Fury seemed certain, but Fury lied. Fury always lied.

That settled it in Coulson's mind. He wasn't sure why, but Fury was lying. Clint wasn't dead. He was still alive out there. And Phil would wait patiently until he came back.

;;;

Phil stared down at the tombstone. Nothing fancy. Just a plain grey slab. The only decoration, a bow and arrow in one corner. Phil smiled to himself. He'd have to bring Clint here whenever he came back. The man would appreciate that SHIELD had let him remain Hawkeye, even in death.

"How are you holding up?" Hill placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I told you Maria. He's not dead. Fury's up to something." Phil felt Maria's hand tense. He looked up and saw her lips drawn into a tight line. Her eyes full of concern. Tears about to spill out of them.

"Phil. We've been over this. It's been three months." Her voice was soft. Like he was a child. They thought he was in denial. He understood where they were coming from. But it was fine if they didn't believe him. They didn't have to. They'd see the truth when Clint came back. Three months wasn't that long. They'd have longer missions than that before.

"He's coming back. I know he is. Just wait and see."

;;;

The alarm went off and Phil was tempted to hit snooze. He didn't though. He had work to do.

He never needed an alarm anymore. His body waking every day at exactly 5:30. But he had to go into the office early. He had paperwork he needed to get done and it was the type he needed to be alone for.

He pulled into his space in the underground parking garage at exactly 4 am. He nodded to the guard who scanned him in. The guard didn't pay attention to him. He was on the phone. Deep in conversation with another agent. Phil caught a few words. Something about Fury being out on a solo field mission. That was interesting. Fury never did field work anymore. Phil just ignored it. Blowing it off as office gossip. Fury was probably just in some top secret meeting out of the country. Life had been pretty boring the last few weeks. People were starved for some form of excitement.

The papers were sitting in the middle of his desk. They seemed to glow like a beacon to him. The papers Fury had been pushing him to get done for weeks. That he had been postponing. Using every excuse and favor he had. The day Fury had dropped the stack of papers on his desk had been the first time Phil had actually considered it. Had started to think that maybe Fury had been telling the truth.

He sighed and bowed his head. Reading the first of a dozen files. The list of specialists who were in-between handlers. He'd be getting three of them. Three people to replace the one who'd been lost. It was time to find his new assets.

It was hard work. Emotionally and mentally exhausting. It took him all morning, but he got it done. He thought about just feeding them all into a shredder. But Fury would just make him do them all again. In triplicate. Phil sighed and gathered up the stack of forms. Might as well get this over with.

He decided to go to Hill's office. Even if the rumors of Fury being in the field weren't true, they had to have a basis somewhere. So the man was definitely not in the building. That meant Hill was in charge.

His path to the elevator took him past one of the employee lounges. The smell of freshly brewed coffee enticing him to take a detour. He had finished his last cup hours ago and the caffeine was wearing off. Days like today were the very reason, he thought, that coffee and alcohol had been invented. He needed a shot, but a cup of coffee would work for now.

He rode silently up the three floors. The half-dozen other agents in the elevator with him didn't make eye contact with him. Everyone knew his theories about Barton. There were all sorts of rumors of just how bad his mental break-down had been. Some were still under the impression that Phil had somehow found Clint's body and had had it stuffed and mounted and kept it in his bedroom. The theories didn't bother him originally. However, now that he was fairly certain he'd been wrong, it was annoying having to face that sort of embarrassment every day.

"Agent Smith saw him herself." One of the women whispered. Phil thought her name was Lucy Collins, but he wasn't positive. She and her twin Sandra tended to dress alike to try and confuse the other agents. Phil was too tired to try and look for the small details that marked the individual women.

"Is it true Fury's arm's in a sling?" Another agent, Steve Baltimore, asked.

"Yeah. And he's got a black eye. Smith said –"

The elevator doors dinged open and Phil stepped out, not caring to hear the end of the conversation. He had learned everything he needed to know. Fury was back in the building. Which meant this paperwork needed to go to him.

Phil pushed open Fury's office door before his knock had fallen silent. He took a step inside and froze. His whole body constricting. His heart beating loudly against his ribs. Fury was there, arm in a sling and a black eye blooming on his one good eye, just like rumors had said. But it was the man sitting across from Fury that held Phil's gaze. The man's back was to him. The blonde hair disheveled and filthy. But Phil knew.

The coffee and stack of papers in Phil's hand fell to the floor with a dull thud. The man's head started turning and Phil fled. He ran from the room, his unflappable exterior fallen away. He wasn't thinking, wasn't caring about the stares that followed him. He just kept running. Down the hallways and up the stairs. Needing to feel the pounding of his feet to help stem the wave of thoughts and emotions. He finally slid to a stop when he reached the roof. Sweat was pouring down his face. His tie felt like a noose around his neck. He tore it off, the suit jacket following it to the ground.

He put his hand on his hips, trying to even out his breathing. Trying to sort through what he'd just seen. What it meant. He must have seen wrong. They said there were people in the world who looked the same. That out there, there were other people who looked just like Phil, so there had to be people who looked like him too. That must be it. Fury had heard a rumor and had followed it up and had found a doppelganger. Phil bit his lip and closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill out.

It had been seven months. Fury had gotten him new assets. He had finally accepted the fact, had finally started to move on. He didn't want to think about the implications of what it meant if his initial instincts had been right. Why the disappearance? Why the secrecy? Why had he not at least said good-bye? Phil's heart ached with all the unanswered questions.

"Give me a chance to explain." The voice was the thing that brought the truth home. Phil's chest tightened. The sadness and helplessness vanishing in a poof of smoke and his outer calm slipping back into place. He spun on a heel, slow and steady. He felt his gut clench as he saw Clint's face staring at him. The man looked worn and tired and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. Phil forced himself to switch into handler mode. Thinking like a SHIELD Agent, surveying the damage a mission had done to a subordinate. He refused to notice how Clint's blue eyes seemed to fall at the harshness in Phil's gaze.

"An explanation is unnecessary, Agent Barton. I'm sure I will gather all of the pertinent data from the mission report." Phil leaned down and grabbed his jacket and tie. He slipped the tie around his neck without tightening it before shrugging into the jacket. He took a step forward, to walk past Barton and to the stairwell. But Barton stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Phil twitched away involuntarily. "I have a meeting to get to, Barton."

"Phil-" Clint's voice cracked. "Please-"

"Seven months." Phil whispered the words. Refusing to let his poker face slip. "You were dead for seven months. No warning. No good-bye. Nothing. I just wake up one morning to find you gone and then Fury tells me you're dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Sometimes sorry's not enough." Clint's hand dropped and Phil stepped past him, consciously keeping his steps slow and steady. His knees gave out slightly as he heard Barton give a heavy sigh but he kept walking. He had to keep walking. Because somehow those seven months didn't matter, they were just an easy excuse. What bothered Phil was the lack of warning. The sudden disappearance. The fact that Barton, who he had trusted with his heart and life, had left him. Had let him think he was dead. For seven months.

Phil tried to spend the rest of the day burying himself in a mountain of paperwork. He had gotten a copy of the new asset forms from Hill and was filling them out for a second time. Since the first batch had gotten ruined when he'd dropped them with his coffee inside Fury's office. Or he was pretty sure the papers had been ruined. He hadn't actually gone to check. Because that would involve talking to Fury. And he was almost as furious with Fury as he was with Barton.

Unfortunately Fury showed up in his office a few hours later. Fury shut and locked the door before leaning back against it. The bruises around his eye had turned a nasty shade of greenish purple. Phil purposely didn't look at him. Keeping his eyes on the forms in front of him.

"How are you holding up?" Fury's voice was strangely soft.

"Fine." Phil answered on automatic.

"Phil." Fury pressed, dropping past their normal work boundaries and resorting back to their days together in the field. When they'd been paired together more often than not and had quickly become best friends and the most efficient team in SHIELD history.

Phil looked up and met Fury's eye. "Nick." He kept his voice flat but Fury saw past it.

"It was classified. Top level. Only Barton and I knew. No one else. Not even Hill or the Security Council." Phil pondered over Fury's words. That at least explained why Clint – NO Barton, damn it! He left, you idiot. He left you alone. He obviously doesn't want to be Clint and Phil anymore. Time to start thinking of him as Barton again. - Barton hadn't told him anything.

"I saw the preliminary report." Phil had checked it as soon as it had been filed. It'd been a straightforward enough mission. Go in, shoot the target, get out alive. "We have hundreds of agents who could have completed that mission. Why Barton?"

"Because he asked."

Phil felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The air leaving his chest in a huff. "He asked?" His voice wavered slightly.

"I was hesitant to agree. I knew about your two's… relationship… but he was insistent."

"So you let him go, and you let me bury an empty coffin, and forced me to do a shit-ton of paperwork to get new assets, and-"

Fury cut Phil off, "Stop, Phil, just… stop." Fury rubbed a hand over his face. "Barton reported to me personally throughout the entire op. He – just – " Phil had never seen Fury speechless before. It was always snark and sarcasm and attitude. Seeing him floundering made Phil uncomfortable. "Fuck this. I'm not gonna be a fucking messenger boy." There was the old Fury. "Damn Coulson, pull your head out of your ass and go talk to Barton. You two are getting fucking ridicu–"

That was as far as Fury got. His words cut off when Phil flung himself around his desk and threw a solid left hook right into Fury's bruised eye. The sling on Fury's arm was the only thing that kept Fury from blocking the blow. It landed with a satisfying thud and Phil felt a vindictive sort of pleasure as Fury swore and groaned. Phil straightened up and smoothed out his suit. "Consider that my resignation." He strode from the office and didn't look back.

;;;

Phil blasted the radio on the drive back to his new apartment, trying to drown out his thoughts. He had moved last month. Once he had accepted that Clint wasn't coming back. He hadn't been able to stand the memories of the home they'd made together. Phil had packed away most of the more sentimental things, storing them in a storage locker upstate. Somewhere far enough away to prevent any late-night woe-is-me binges.

He was fantasizing about a Supernanny marathon and a gallon of coffee spiked with the hardest stuff he could find as he unlocked the door. He slipped inside without looking up. Letting the tension and sadness finally sink onto his shoulders, forcing him to hunch over slightly. It'd been a long day and it was only 2 o'clock.

"You moved?"

Phil's head snapped up as his whole body went rigid. Clint Barton was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the sofa. It was the same sofa from their old apartment but he was perched on the edge like he was scared to make contact with it. Anger boiled up in Phil's chest at this invasion of privacy. At the fact that he'd let Barton see just how much this all was getting to him.

If Barton had wanted out so bad that was one thing. He didn't need to keep pestering Phil about it. He knew how to take a hint. Even one that was as obvious as a billboard lit in neon lights. Barton had left. Whatever they had been, Barton hadn't wanted it. Phil would just have to learn to accept that. But he couldn't do that if Barton was dogging his every step.

Phil slipped his gun out of its holster and pointed it at Barton's head. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House." He growled.

"It's an apartment actually." Clint smirked half-heartedly. It was a joke he'd used to make about their old place. Phil always called it their house and Clint – BARTON - had always corrected him.

Phil cocked the gun. "Get out."

Barton's smile fell and he dropped his head. "Just two minutes. Just give me two minutes? Then I'll walk out and never come back." Phil weighed his options. As much as he wanted to crawl into bed and pretend this day had never happened, he wanted to hear what Barton had to say. At the very least it might give him some closure. He didn't speak, just un-cocked the gun without lowering it. Clint – Barton – understood.

"I made a mistake. We were getting serious and I got scared and I ran. Because… I needed you – I loved you – and I couldn't face that. Couldn't admit it. Because I was sure one day you'd wake up and want to end it and I knew it'd end me. So I left you before you could leave me.

I asked Fury for the mission because it was the best way out. Fury was gonna get SHIELD to have me declared officially dead. I'd make a last kill, then disappear forever. Go to some tropical island and shoot coconuts out of palm trees till I died."

"So why are you here?" Phil fought to keep his voice even.

"Because three days in I realized I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. That I couldn't handle life without you. That I needed you. I wanted to drop the mission and come back and tell you the truth. Tell you the way that I feel. But I couldn't. This was our only chance at the target. So I worked my ass off and got the mission done in half the projected time.

I thought about you every second and I knew that every day that went past was one more day – you could move on – forget about me – find someone new. I was scared I'd come back and you'd be with someone else. That I'd had thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me. But… I didn't think… I didn't want to hurt you…"

"Don't lie to me, Barton." Phil spoke past the lump forming in his throat. Barton looked up at him with tears spilling from his eyes. His bottom lip was quivering slightly and it made Phil's heart clench.

"It's the truth. I love you – "

"You didn't want to hurt me?" Phil's hand started to drop unconsciously. "More like you didn't think you  _could_  hurt me. You thought that you were the only one invested in the relationship. That I thought it was just a fling, that I didn't really care, that I wouldn't –" Phil choked on the words. Clint stood up and took a step towards Phil. Phil wanted to move back, to run away, to not have to deal with this. But even more he wanted to step forward. To wrap himself in Clint's arms and never let go. "You were dead. I buried you. For seven months, I thought you were dead."

The tears were streaming down Phil's face now and the gun fell out of his fingers. Clint took another step forward, then another, and another. When they were less than a foot apart Clint raised a hand and placed it gently on Phil's cheek. Phil twitched away from the contact and Clint dropped his hand, looking like he'd been slapped. "I'm sorry." Clint took a step to leave.

"Clint." The word came out in a whisper that sounded more like a whine. Phil grabbed Clint's arm and pulled him towards him. Neither of them looked at each other. Finding the ground much more fascinating. "This isn't going to be easy. I had only just started to accept that you were gone. I know how Fury lies, so I thought it was just one of his games. But you never came back. One second you're in my arms, the next you're dead. And now you're here. It's going to take a while for me to get past that. To not be scared that you're going to vanish again. That I didn't do anything wrong."

Clint's lips were on Phil's before he realized what was happening. There was a need and desperation behind them. It took a second for Phil to catch up to the program and start kissing back. Clint pulled back before Phil was ready and he leaned after him shamelessly. But Clint pushed him back. Their eyes met and Clint gave him a quick smile.

"At the risk of sounding cliché, it wasn't you, it was me." Phil just huffed, a small laugh.

"Did you at least complete the mission?"

"Sorry, that's classified information. Last I checked you were no longer an employee of SHIELD." Clint smirked. Phil rolled his eyes and dug his cellphone out of his pocket. He sent a text to Fury, just one word.

\+ Sorry+

He got a response a few seconds later.

\+ Already forgotten. Debrief tomorrow. 0600. Bring your Hawk +

Phil smiled into the phone before tossing it onto the sofa. "There, Agent status restored, now, mission successful?"

"Yes and no." Clint smirked, his eyes sparkling with the same devilishness that Phil hadn't let himself realize he missed.

"How the hell can it be yes and no?"

"Well, I did kinda fail to kill the target – "

"The textbook definition of a failed mission."

"But I did manage to recruit her?" Clint looked at Phil sheepishly. Phil rubbed at his temples, fighting back the encroaching headache.

"You're back one day and I'm already getting a stress headache. Let me see if I've got this right. You turned the target and recruited them to SHIELD? And Fury didn't kill you?"

"He thought about it. But he was too damned impressed that I survived the Black Widow."

"The target was the Black Widow?! As in Natalia Romanova? Crowning achievement of the Red Room? The woman who has been on our hit list for years?"

"She's not so bad once you get to know her."

Phil dropped his head against Clint's chest. "I'm not going to help you with this. If you're going to bring home strays then you have to watch after them and teach them the rules."

"Does that mean I can keep her? Cause Fury said I had to ask you first. Said he wouldn't sign off on her in his god-damned building till his good eye had a look at her."

"You realize you're going to be the death of me?" Phil rolled his eyes as he leaned into another quick kiss. Loving how normal and natural it felt. Like no time had passed. His heart still ached. He was still waiting for Clint to disappear and for all of this to be a dream. For seven months he had hoped and prayed for Clint to come back. But he couldn't let himself let down his defenses yet. As much as he wanted to, he was still worried about just what would happen to his if Clint ever did die. He was pretty sure it would kill him. "Just promise me one thing?" Clint looked down at him, noting Phil's sudden switch back to seriousness. "Don't disappear on me again."

Clint smiled softly and planted a warm kiss on Phil's lips. Whispering around it. "Never."


	2. Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because people were complaining that Phil took Clint back too easily. (it picks up halfway through the original story: right after Coulson punches Fury)  
> -~-  
> I had two endings in my head, I still prefer the original version, but since you all thought it was too happy; here, have some heartache.

Phil blasted the radio on the drive back to his new apartment, trying to drown out his thoughts. He had moved last month. Once he had accepted that Clint wasn't coming back. He hadn't been able to stand the memories of the home they'd made together. Phil had packed away most of the more sentimental things, storing them in a storage locker upstate. Somewhere far enough away to prevent any late-night woe-is-me binges.

He was fantasizing about a Supernanny marathon and a gallon of coffee spiked with the hardest stuff he could find as he unlocked the door. He slipped inside without looking up. Letting the tension and sadness finally sink onto his shoulders, forcing him to hunch over slightly. It'd been a long day and it was only 2 o'clock.

"You moved?"

Phil's head snapped up as his whole body went rigid. Clint Barton was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the sofa. It was the same sofa from their old apartment but he was perched on the edge like he was scared to make contact with it. Anger boiled up in Phil's chest at this invasion of privacy. At the fact that he'd let Barton see just how much this all was getting to him.

If Barton had wanted out so bad that was one thing. He didn't need to keep pestering Phil about it. He knew how to take a hint. Even one that was as obvious as a billboard lit in neon lights. Barton had left. Whatever they had been, Barton hadn't wanted it. Phil would just have to learn to accept that. But he couldn't do that if Barton was dogging his every step.

Phil slipped his gun out of its holster and pointed it at Barton's head. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House." He growled.

"It's an apartment actually." Clint smirked half-heartedly. It was a joke he'd used to make about their old place. Phil always called it their house and Clint – BARTON - had always corrected him.

Phil cocked the gun. "Get out."

Barton's smile fell and he dropped his head. "Just two minutes. Just give me two minutes? Then I'll walk out and never come back." Phil weighed his options. A part of him wanted nothing more than to let Cl-Barton explain; to know why he had run off so suddenly. But an even larger part was still writhing in his anger. Just when he was finally starting to move on, to accept that Barton was never coming back, the damn man shows up at his door. How dare he! How dare he come waltzing back like it'd just been any other mission! Like he hadn't tried to make a run for it. Like he hadn't asked for a Kill Shot. Phil knew the program was real and it was obvious that that's what Barton had done. But he had come back. For some reason, he'd come back. And honestly, Phil wished he hadn't.

"I said out." Phil gestured towards the door with his gun.

Barton bit his lip and closed his eyes. Phil didn't move, still aiming his gun at Barton's heart. Finally, Barton stood up and crossed to the door. His path took him within a foot of Phil, who shied away instinctively. He swore he heard Barton give a soft sob at Phil's movement, but neither said anything. Until finally Barton was standing on Phil's doorstep where he hesitated and turned around. "Please, can I just, Ph-"

Phil slammed the door and flipped the deadlock with a loud click.

The moment it was closed he collapsed to the floor, gun skittering across the room. But there were no tears. Nothing but a hollow emptiness wrapped around the jagged hole in his chest. All those months of hoping, of imagining what he'd do and say when Barton finally came back. Never had he imagined that it would be like this. Of course, in their time together, of all the ways he'd imagined losing Clint, he never imagined Barton would pull something like this.

;;;

Phil awoke the next morning to his phone ringing. The call was from Fury. He ignored it. And the seven other calls and half a dozen texts before finally just pulling the battery from his phone. 

Phil never made it out of bed that day. Or the next. He only managed to stumble to the bathroom, not bothering to eat anything. It'd long been his rule that it was healthiest to eat only when he was hungry, and he really really wasn't hungry. 

On the third day, Phil was awoken at 6am by a loud pounding on his door. He groaned and rolled over, hoping the person would eventually give up and go away. Five minutes later the pounding stopped, replaced by the sound of Phil's front door slamming open then shut again. Phil lay still, listening to the familiar footsteps cross his apartment. He didn't bother looking up as Fury loomed in the doorway to his bedroom.

"You have work to do, Agent Coulson."

Phil groaned. "I resigned, remember."

"Oh, yes. That was quite memerable. I think the stories about that will go down in SHIELD lore. However, you are an irreplaceable asset that SHIELD cannot afford to lose. I've allowed you three days, now stop moping and get back to the office." Phil tried not to flinch as Fury tore away the blankets. "Report to HQ by 0800 or I'm sending a team after you." Fury spun and strode from the room, his coat billowing behind him. Phil rolled his eyes. That man always had a flair for the dramatic.

;;;

It was easier than Phil expected, going back to work. Other than the rumors that swirled through the hallways, even faster than usual, it was just like it had been the last 7 months. Phil had grown used to people staring at him like they were expecting him to snap at any second.

The only difference was that this time there was Barton. Not that Phil saw him, but Phil still knew he was there. Because technically Phil was still his handler and so all of his paperwork was sitting in a pile on Phil's desk. In a separate pile next to it were the files on the three other assets he had selected before Barton had returned. Laying between them was a note from Fury saying 'It's up to you.' Phil knew what it meant and he appreciated Fury's consideration. Fury was giving Phil the chance to choose. He could go back to how it'd been before and take over again as Barton's handler or he could drop him and start over with three new assets.

It should have been an easy decision. Barton had betrayed Phil's trust. He had disappeared without so much as a wave goodbye. How was Phil supposed to trust him again? To trust that Barton would have his back in the field? That he'd still be there at the end of every mission. Phil would worry every time the comms went silent, not because he was worried for Barton's safety, but because he was worried that Barton had vanished again.

On the other hand, Phil really didn't want to start over. He'd put too many years into building up his place in SHIELD, he didn't want to have to train new assets to work with him in the field. Even if the new agents were as amazing as their files said, Phil knew he'd never have the same rapport with them as he did with Barton. They'd been a seamless and unstoppable team. And Barton had thrown it all away.

The two stacks of files were all but fighting each other in Phil's mind. But it was no contest. Phil had known from the moment he'd decided to put on his suit and come into the office. He'd had three days to mourn, now it was time to set his feelings aside and do what was best for SHIELD. And that was keeping its best team intact.

The file was thicker than Phil remembered as he pulled it towards him. He figured it was from the notes on his last op. He was surprised then when he flipped it open to see another sticky note from Fury. 'Thank you. P.S. You get Romanov' The note was stuck to the front of another smaller file that had been nestled into Barton's. It was full of everything SHIELD had on Natalia Romanova, which was shockingly little. Phil huffed a sigh. Looked like he was getting a new asset after all.

;;;

Phil knew Barton would show up in his office eventually. He didn't know if it'd be days or weeks, but Barton would come.

What Phil hadn't expected, was to want Barton to show up. He'd spent months realizing each and every quirk about Barton that had made Phil's days go by faster. And he'd had enough time to grasp that he'd never experience them again. Now that he knew that he  _could,_ it made it harder to accept that he wouldn't. He wanted to see Barton sprawled across his couch, or tipping back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on Phil's desk. Or to hear him shuffling through the air vents, trying his hardest to sneak up on Phil just once. Hell, he'd even enjoy Barton shooting paperclips at his computer screen just to see how long it took for Phil to crack.

So when Barton finally slipped into Phil's office a week later, Phil was almost tempted to smile. Almost. Seeing Barton here made it all so real again. That Barton had left. That he'd been dead. Only not. Which made Phil want to grab one of the paperclips from his desk and kill him with it. And it made him want to cross the room and hold Clint close and never let go again. And to just have Barton pretend none of this had ever happened. And to just break down and explain all of this to Phil. Phil wanted so many things, but he settled on doing nothing at all. He just capped his pen, setting in down carefully on his desk, and looked up as Barton perched himself on the edge of one of the chairs across from him.

Seeing Barton up close, Phil noticed just how awful he looked. There were bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept for days. His skin was pale and his fingers were blistered. He must have been shooting without his glove again. Something about that made Phil's heart ache. Barton only 'accidentally' forgot his glove when something was truly, horribly wrong. 

"Can I help you, Barton?" Phil asked, when Barton made no move to speak.

Clint took a deep breath, pausing before letting it out slowly through his nose. "You're still my handler."

Phil heard the question behind the words. "Yes. Is there a problem with that? Did you want me to switch you to someone else?"

"No!" Barton's eyes flared wide. "I mean, no... not if you... I just thought..."Barton dropped his head back with a huff.

"You thought I'd let personal issues interfere with work." Phil's voice stayed neutral, even as his heart sped up, watching as Barton struggled to understand. "My emotions never interfered with work before, and they won't now. Is that all?"

"No - can't I just?" Barton's head finally came back up and Phil saw the tears Barton was barely holding back. He was asking for permission to explain. Phil knew this needed to happen; he'd been preparing himself for it. If they were going to be in the field together, they needed to know that they could tell each other anything. So Phil gave a small nod, indicating for Barton to proceed. The small smile that lit up Barton's face hit Phil like a wave, momentarily shutting down his brain. It came scrambling back as Clint started to speak. "I'm not an optimist, Phil - Coulson" Barton changed the name at a raised eyebrow from Phil. "I don't expect to have good things and whenever I get something good I expect for it to be torn away from me. It's just how my life is, and I'd learned to accept it. Until I found something that would destroy me to lose.

"You. I- I couldn't stand the idea that - " Barton sighed. "So I left, because if I hadn't, and I lost you..." A single tear slipped down Barton's face and Phil had to fight back the urge to wipe it away. "Going on the mission was a mistake. And I knew that three days after I'd left. But Fury had already started the Kill Shot process; had already told you that I - you know."

"That you were dead. That your body was lying in a ditch in some third world country. That I'd have to bury an empty coffin." Phil spat the words.

"I'm so sorry Phi- Coulson." Barton caught himself halfway through Phil's name, changing it with a sigh. "I came back as fast as I could. I would have ditched the mission, but Fury had burned all my papers. Plus, I didn't want to ruin my perfect record." Clint smirked. A poor imitation of his normal cocky grin.

"I think recruiting the target technically still counts as a failed mission, since it failed to achieve the mission objectives." Phil deadpanned. Barton gave another small smile. "Though I do have to say that I'm impressed. Not many people walk away from the Black Widow in one piece."

"Yeah, Nat's pretty awesome." Something in Barton's tone made Phil's jealousy flare up.

"She's proving quite above expectations in our testing." Phil agreed. "She's one of the best I've ever seen. She will be a good addition to our team."

"You don't have to stay on, if you don't want."

Phil held up a hand to silence Barton. "Stop. Like I said, work is work. You have never given me any reason to distrust you in the field-" Phil pressed on, ignoring how the last few words made Barton flinch, "so I will continue to be yours, and now Romanov's handler."

"Right. Okay. Um... good?" Barton nodded to himself and stood up.

"Wait." Phil dug his keys from his pocket and quickly unhooked a single small key. He threw it to Barton who snatched it out of the air easily. "A storage facility up-state. It has some of your things that you might need."

"Thanks. I'll bring the key back tomorrow."

"Keep it. There's nothing in there I want right now." Barton's face fell at Phil's words. "But - " Barton's eyes locked with Phil's, the smallest glimmer of hope behind them. "maybe someday I'll change my mind. Maybe I'll stop feeling rejected and abandoned and like I did something to drive you away. Maybe eventually I'll stop waiting for this all to be a dream and for you to still be dead. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to trust you to talk to me about your fears rather than just going AWOL, because then I could have told you how much I love you and that there was nothing that could change that. Not even you doing something as stupid as pretending to be dead for 7 months." Barton grinned and it made Phil's heart flutter. He knew that there was no question that he still loved Barton, but Phil couldn't have a relationship without being able to trust his partner to stick around. "Though stupid things like that make it impossible for me to trust you not-in-the-field."

"Is there anything I can do?" Barton took a hesitant step closer, he took another when Phil didn't flinch or move away. 

"Just prove that I'm never going to wake up to find you gone again. Just don't disappear."

"Any idea how long will it take to prove that?" Barton took another step forward, finally pushing into Phil's personal space and Phil had to take a step back.

"No."

Barton nodded, resigned. "Okay. Fair enough. But just FYI, I know what it's like to live without you and I'm never doing that again. So however long it takes, whatever it takes -" Barton turned and headed for the door. He hesitated with his hand above the handle before looking back at Phil with a hesitant smile. "I love you."

Phil's body flooded with warmth and he smiled back at Clint. "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Wanted song "The Way I Feel".


End file.
